Curare
by Anti-Nostalgic Angel
Summary: I couldn't move a God-damned muscle. - Oneshot - Shinjirou's POV - Shinji x FeMC/MShe/Minako/Hamuko


Once again, something that I hope will chase away the Writer's Block that seems to have settled on top of Chapter 9 of Addressed to You. Grrr. This was something that I thought up of during my Psychology lecture, when my professor mentioned that apparently people in comas can still receive and retain sensory information. As an FYI, curare is the name given to the bark poison that Amazon hunters tip their weapons with. It's not so much a poison in the traditional sense, but more rather a paralysis drug: it cuts off your motor systems, but leaves your sensory systems as is. So you could hear and see and feel and think, but you couldn't move a thing.

Disclaimer: Persona 3, Persona 3 Portable, their characters and terms (c) Atlus

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Curare**

In my own defense, I was stuck in a body that wouldn't move.

I was conscious. Well, not conscious in the sense that I was aware of things, but it was like my subconscious was feeding me information from the outside world. I knew that Aki had come to visit me and demanded I wake up. That he'd solidified his resolve to fight and protect. I knew that he kept me informed about what was happening in the world I was comatose in. I knew that she visited me whenever she could, just so she could make small talk with my unresponsive body. That half the time the idiot ended up crying her eyes out even as she apologized for breaking her promise _again_.

And every damn time, I couldn't move a God-damned muscle.

I wasn't supposed to be alive. I wasn't supposed to be feeling like this. That September, when I'd caved and agreed to rejoin SEES, I had done it to leave with no regrets. I'd done it with the assumption that nothing would change. That I wouldn't change. But then she'd started approaching me, talking with me, treating me as something, as someone important. She wasn't like other people. She didn't fear me like those clowns, didn't pity me like Aki or Mitsuru, didn't hate me like Amada. She saw me for me. Aragaki Shinjirou. It was with Aragaki Shinjirou that she smiled, laughed . . . loved. And as time dragged me closer to my day of reckoning that I knew I would have to face, I felt the one thing that I had been trying to avoid: regret.

Damn it. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

It had been December when I'd "found out" (I know the date now because Aki filled me in when I'd woken up). I wouldn't say that I knew exactly what was going on, but probably my subconscious had picked up on the words that my moronic boxer of a childhood friend had told me. Some guy who knew her claiming that he was to end the world. And that she alone had to make the choice of kill the bastard and forget everything until the end, or let the idiot live and remember everything and wait for the end anyways. On hindsight. I'd wanted to wake up, jump out of bed, and beat the shit out of the bastard for putting the load on her. I knew she had the strength to make and carry out her decisions; I just hated the dumbass for giving her such retarded options.

"Shinji . . . I'm going to let Ryouji-kun live."

How I even remember what she said is beyond me. But I do remember. I even remember how she sounded when she'd said it. Softly, tentatively, as if she was afraid that if she spoke any louder her voice would shake and her decision would change. I could remember feeling her hands, which were clutching onto mine, squeeze tighter.

"I . . . I can't kill him, Shinji. It's not just because he's my friend and I can't bring myself to kill him. It's because if I forget . . . I'll forget you. You've been so lonely all these years; how could I leave you alone again? And besides . . . I'd die before I'd let myself forget you."

I could feel the tremble in her hands. Damn, all that training in Tartarus had really added up; if I'd been even the least bit lucid then I would've given her the hint that she was holding on too tight. And I realized just how dead-on Aki's reports on her condition had been. Her next words still shake me to the core.

"Shinji . . . I-I wish you were here. I know I'm supposed to be the undefeated leader, that I'm supposed to be strong for everyone. But . . . God, Shinji, it's so hard. Sometimes I just want to give up. I want you with me. I _need_ you with me. I . . ." If I could have back then, I would have cringed at the crack in her voice. "I miss you, Shinji. So much."

A silence.

"Merry Christmas, Shinji."

Pressure on my lips. I felt warm liquid - tears - patter softly onto my face. Her voice was so soft, almost a whisper.

"Liar."

And at that time, especially that time when she needed me most, when I'd wanted to most, I couldn't move a God-damned muscle.

**~Owari~**


End file.
